


A Light at the End of the World

by Spoodlemonkey



Category: X Company (TV)
Genre: M/M, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 00:41:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5071270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoodlemonkey/pseuds/Spoodlemonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A taste of the zombie apocalypse and a sliver of hope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Light at the End of the World

**Author's Note:**

> A quick halloween fic featuring zombies and my boys. I've had writers block for what feels like forever, so I'm so happy to finally be posting something! And just in time for halloween! (I like to pretend Alfred and Aurora are being badasses elsewhere during this fic.)

“I didn’t sign up for this.” Tom grunts as he swings the lead pipe in his hands as hard as he can. It connects with a resounding ‘squelch’ that used to make his stomach turn. All he gets is grim satisfaction now.

“We know.” Harry doesn’t pause, his clever fingers working to send off a quick message back home to let them know that they’re still going, that there’s still a chance. Tom has to believe there’s still a chance. 

“I feel it bears repeating.” He insists, his grip getting slick with blood and gore as he takes another swing. They’ll be overrun soon if they don’t make a run for it. But Harry isn’t finished yet and they need to get a hold of someone back home. He grits his teeth. “Anything?”

“Not yet,” Harry mumbles, pauses. “Wait! Yes I’m getting something!”

“Wonderful.” Neil chimes in, sarcasm heavy on his tongue. He’s coated in blood and sweat but there’s a fire in his eyes that Tom trusts. An arm reaches through the door and together they shove it back through and strain to push it shut, a temporary reprieve from the monsters on the other side. They lean against the wood for a moment, catching their breath. Neil twines their fingers together and Tom returns the grip, squeezing, before letting go and stepping away. Instead he focuses on their escape route. 

They’re up on the fourth floor, in a small apartment that had originally seemed clear of all of the insanity that had become most of Europe. Neil hadn’t wanted to stop but it was getting dark and they were still stuck in the city. Everyone knew it was too dangerous to be outside at night, you couldn’t see what was coming at you in the dark. So they had stopped and Harry had set up the communications equipment they’d managed to liberate from the old police station. Tom had spent the night curled up against Neil’s side, alternating between napping and taking watch over the dark streets, wishing they were silent, that they couldn’t hear the groans or the odd scream that would pierce the air as another person fell to the onslaught. Two weeks ago the screams were quite frequent. They’re not anymore. 

It’s only a four story building, thankfully, so it won’t be a problem to slip out the window, to the balcony, and then to the roof. They just have to get out of there before the door gives.

“Harry.” Neil warns as the wood creaks and the groaning increases on the other side. 

Tom wishes they had found some weapons at the police station, but it had been cleared out by other survivors. He hates having to get up close to the rotting shambling corpses of people he both fought and tried to save. The smell may be the worst part, worse than the peeling skin and gaping wounds and sightless eyes that seemed to know exactly where you were despite it. The stench of rot and decay and blood was heavy in the city and emanated from the rotting citizens. As far as they knew all of Europe was like this. No one knew how it had begun but Tom was quick to blame the Germans, feeling justified in doing so. Alfred and Aurora weren’t as convinced and had dedicated time and resources to finding out the truth in hopes that perhaps there was a way to stop it all. Tom could hope for that, but he had a sinking feeling that it didn’t exist—a way to stop it all, that is.  
He pushes open the window and steps out onto the tiny balcony. It’s been built mostly for show but he fits and it won’t be too hard to lift themselves up onto the roof. Hopefully there isn’t anything up there.

“Harry.” Neil’s voice is strained, terse. Tom ducks back inside. The door is beginning to buckle. “We have to go.”

“We can’t!” Harry cries, still tapping away. The wooden door begins to crack and Neil makes the decision for him. He grabs Harry by his collar and hauls him up, passes him to Tom who boosts him up to the roof. 

“The equipment!” Harry protests even as he scrambles up. Tom meets Neil’s gaze across the room. 

Then Neil is scrambling to pack up the wires, shoving them into the case and tossing it to Tom. The door comes down and for a moment they freeze. 

Rotting corpses stumble into the room, falling on top of one another in their desperation to get in, to get to the two living beings still there. Neil leaps across the room and they squeeze out onto the small balcony, pressed together and slam the windows shut. Tom doesn’t think it will give them enough time. Down below the noise they’re making has attracted the attention of more of the monsters, their voices rising up in a sound that makes his skin crawl. Harry reaches out and grabs the case from them.

“Go.” Tom gives Neil a boost up as the glass begins to crack. His heart is pounding, lodged in his throat. Neil scrambles up and then he and Harry reach down and grab Tom’s hands yanking him up.

Clammy rough hands grab onto his pant legs and he kicks out, a scream working its way through his chest and trying to break loose. But then he’s up and out of reach, the rough roof digging into his cheek as he lays there, panting, Neil’s arms wrapped around him from where they fell. Harry remains seated next to them, legs stretched out and face pale. Neil doesn’t seem willing to release his hold on Tom anytime soon.

“Bloody hell.” He mumbles, lips pressed against Tom’s temple. “Let’s never do that again.”

“I agree.”

“Guys,” Harry says slowly. He pushes his glasses up on top of his head and rubs his eyes. Tom suspects he’s going into shock. 

“You okay there Harry?” Neil asks cautiously like he’s talking to a skittish animal. He sits up and pulls Tom with him but they stay pressed together, shoulder to thigh. 

“Guys,” Harry says again and then—amazingly enough--breaks out into a grin. A real smile—something they haven’t seen in two weeks. “I got through to someone.”

“And?” Tom asks, pulse quickening again, this time out of nerves and not fear. It’s a pleasant change.

“And nothing.” Harry laughs. It’s light and warm and Tom soaks up the rare sign of happiness. “Literally nothing, they haven’t been touched by all this at home.” 

Relief surges through him at the news. It makes his head rush, heart thunder in his ears, and fingers tingle. If he weren’t sitting he’d probably be on the ground now. So it isn’t the end of the world then; it had been a dark thought that none of them had wanted to voice for fear of making it true. If North America is safe from whatever this is, then perhaps they all still have a chance. 

“How?” Neil chokes out and Tom knows the relief isn’t quite the same for him. His home has still fallen, and his niece might have fallen with it. But the knowledge that there is a safe place—that’s enough for now. 

“They shut down airports and ports over there I’m assuming.” Harry lays back and closes his eyes, looking suddenly exhausted. “I didn’t have long to talk to them.” 

“We’ll get you more time later.” Tom promises. The early morning light is promising a hot day ahead of them so they’d best get moving now. They have a bit of a walk ahead of them to get back to the safe house and everyone else, and no supplies. Neil climbs to his feet and pulls Tom after him. Harry follows, the case clutched tightly in his arms. It’s even more important to keep it safe now that they know there’s someone listening on the other end.

The roof tops stretch out in front of them, silent, unlike the streets down below. They can cross a fair amount of the city before they have to risk going back down there. They start their trek back, weary but with something like hope threatening to rise up and take over. Neil catches his hand as they walk side by side, squeezes and holds on. Tom lets him thread their fingers together and holds on just as tightly, unwilling to let go.


End file.
